Homunculus
by witchfingers
Summary: Out of despair, humans try forbidden alchemy to bring their loved ones back to life. But that is not for free, and not everyone is prepared to pay the price...
1. I

_I just had this idea and I HAD to write it down :D_

**Rating: **T  
**Genre:** Angst, supernatural  
**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own FMA_  
**Summary:** Out of despair, humans try forbidden alchemy to bring their loved ones back to life. But not everyone is prepared to pay the price...  
**Note:** Enjoyed best while listening to the homunculus' theme song

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**Homunculus.**

His eyelids lifted heavily. The world he would have expected to be sunny came out dim, blurry. It took a while for his sight to settle, revealing a monotone, almost _monochromatic_ room, where the papers were scattered and messed everywhere, and smoke rose, ghastly, from the edges of some lines drawn out with chalk.

He tried to speak, but a burning, scorching sensation shot from his throat. The next thing he knew was that he was coughing out a dark, thick blood.

Trying to stand up proved futile. It was not that his legs wouldn't work, but he didn't have enough _strength_ to move them. It was becoming hard for him to breathe. He coughed out some more blood, that splattered on the cold stone floor and became the only sound in the room. It was then he looked down at his hands. It... it took a while for him to focus. When he did, his whole being became paralyzed, and a bitter feeling of nausea overcame him. Again, blood gushed densely from his mouth. Even so, he felt it blazing _dry_. A bony, squalid, _languid_ hand had replaced his once _normal_ one.

He gritted his teeth, and a hot liquid sprouted from his eyes and fell to the ground. He was crying.

'_What... what is going on with me...?_'

Words still didn't come out from his raspy lips, but his formerly sore ears perceived a slight, almost fading noise- the sound of someone breathing. He tried to move towards the source of it, but he froze in his place and his eyes widened when his joints seemed to snap, and an unnatural throbbing shot through his body.

The first sound that came out of his crimson-tainted mouth, was a guttural cry of pain.

Tears burned their way down to the stone floor. Tears of anguish and impotence. '_Didn't I die?_' he thought desperately. '_Didn't I?_'

Knowing that the only limbs he could currently move were his arms he painstakingly crawled his way towards the breathing sound, rubbing his lower body and stomach against the ground, ripping his flesh each time the stone was irregular.

But by the time he was already used to _that_ pain.

He only stopped to vomit some more blood, that leaked through the crevices of the floor. The strength seemed to be abandoning him, bit by bit, even if he was making an inhuman effort to keep on. His sight, once again, went blurry, but now the object of his dedication appeared to be... nearer. He extended his arm towards the source of the breathing. A person, a man, a... His weary eyes shot open.

'...F...Fa-ther...' He stuttered, in a slurry voice that didn't even reminiscence his own. Now, tears overflowed his eyes.

He saw a lot of splattered blood. Was it because he was crying? Who did it belong to...?

No. The man lying comfortingly near him barely lifted his eyelids, as if he'd reacted to that course, sour noise his handsome voice had become.

He waited anxiously, for a while enduring the excruciating pain and the flow of crimson liquid emanating from where the icy floor had lascerated his skin. Father's golden pupils became smaller just as his eyes dilated.

An anguished scream tore up the silence. In a pathetic display of desperation, the father clutched his missing right arm, the stump bleeding profusely, and crawled backwards. 'Go away...' He commanded, half authoritarian, half startled, 'You're not my son...!'

For a moment he refused to believe his ears. 'F...Father...' He said again, pleading, overcoming the pain and crawling towards him, discovering his new body's movements were more mechanic. 'H...help me...'

His plead was unheard, and his barely recognisable eyes followed the staggering, retreating silhouette of the one who'd created him.

His extended hand tried to reach the person who had already reached the stop of the stairs and was, a dark figure clashing aggresively against a light that appeared blinding, closing the door to that basement, living him in a total, maddening darkness.

From the doors outwards, the unnatural cry of anguish went unnoticed.

But inwards, it echoed.

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_**T-T... did -I- really write that?... it's so... sad...**_


	2. II

_Hmm... part two, already. Enjoy!_

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Even if he'd been careful enough not to make any sound, by the time he got to the kitchen, missing right arm bleeding freely, Dante was already there, waiting for him, with a severe look plastered on the pretty face that the candle she was holding illuminated.

Hohenheim stared blankly at her, waiting for the impasible scold that he knew was coming.

Her ice-cold voice ripped and shredded the silence: "You finally did it, didn't you?"

His shaken body found support against the wall, down which blood started to stream. "He... it called me _father_..." Dante had reached for a towel and was forcing the bleeding from the stump to stop, but her husband's words made her freeze, if only for some seconds.

"Homunculi don't have memories..." Her voice trailed off.

Hohenheim covered his eyes with his left hand, and Dante saw with surprise how a tear made its way down his cheek. "It was crawling..."

She pulled him into a small hug, and when she let go, golden eyes were trying to fight back the imminent despair. "It all happened because you're such a great alchemist." She stated, coldness again hinting at her voice. "Since you are so powerful, it is natural that the homunculus you've created has more of human in it than those depicted in the books."

"And it still isn't him."

Dante's eyes diverted from his. "Dead people don't come back to life, Hohenheim. You only made an over-average homunculus. And look at yourself."

Hohenheim's eyes darkened considerably. 'I'll get a new body.' The statement said, he wiped his left hand, soaked in fresh blood, on his white shirt. His spouse's brow pursed. 'That's not how things work, my dear.'

She sighed, and said. 'You are responsible for our son's death, and bringing him back to life certainly _wasn't_ in the plans.' Hohenheim was once again surprised at the coldness of her voice. But he mantained the serious, almost business-like look he always got when they talked about alchemy.

'Now, you should abide by the Laws, and suffer the consequences of your rash actions.'

His eyes narrowed. 'Dante...' he began, suddenly looking too menacing, 'Did you not love our son?'

'Don't take me wrongly.' She snarled, being aware that she was getting on her husband's bad side. 'I _loved_ him very much. But that thing you brought back isn't him.' A shadow crossed her eyes. 'That thing... is a monster.'

Hohenheim interrupted her. 'It's a homunculus, an alchemically recreated human.'

'Don't take me for an idiot, Hohenheim.' Dante said, gritting her teeth. Calming down a little, she added. 'What do you suggest we do with it? It would be a waste to throw away such precious research material...'

His features contorted in disgust. 'Are you so selfishly heartless, Dante? _It_ used to be our son...!'

'Very well...' She said, hanguing up her hands in sign of sarcastic defeat. 'Do as you please with the creature. Feed him our unfinished Red Stones, if that makes you happy. But remember, it will never be even a _shadow_ of the human he once was.'

'Of course it'll never be.' As he exited the room, without even directing a word to his wife, Hohenheim of Light grabbed a handful of incomplete Philosopher's Stones.

A desperate smirk, much like that of a cornered animal, crept through Dante's lips. She went through the same door her husband had used, and met him in the middle of the hall. He was hesitating.

'I won't do this, Dante.' He said, and she thought she saw a pang of guilt in his eyes. 'It would be the same as giving him a living hell.'

The only sound following his words, was that of many stones falling to the floor...

Dante bent down, and carefully picked them all up, dusted them off. 'So you suggest we let it die?' She chuckled icyly. 'I won't permit that.'

'You will only use him for scientific investigation.' Hohenheim stated with sadness. 'I won't stay here if it means that I'll have to see how you use the remains of our son as your pawn, or worse, your lab rat!'

He was raging, she could notice it in his raised voice, and his remaining fist. It was clenched.

She didn't refrain to reply, 'Fine. Leave, be my guest.'

He didn't say anything else. Dante stayed there, standing like an ice statue in the middle of the hall, as she saw how her husband picked up his things, his research material, packed everything in a suitcase, and left.

'You bastard...' She whispered under her breath.

"_I'll never forgive you_."

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**I based the previous chapter and the first part of this in the Spanish version of the anime, where Dante tells Envy that "You looked much better than this (_newly born Sloth_), when you were born."... Sloth can move slightly so I took the liberty to say that Envy was able to move too, and that he still had some reasoning capacity. And for that last "I'll never forgive you..."... I took it from Envy's "Omae wa iurusenai". Like mother like son.**


	3. III

_OMG! Thanks so much to everyone! 10 reviews for 2 chappies is the world to me!_

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When Dante opened the door to the basement, a faint noise reached her ears.

The sound of sobbing. Her nose twitched at the stench of blood that rose from the human transmutation array, which, still smoking, made a wave of hate shake her entire body. Her dress frilled against the stone steps.

Her keen eyes scanned the room, in search for a gross, inform, barely human-reminiscing pile of matter, bones, tissues, muscles. What she found didn't turn out to be what she expected. In the furthest, darkest corner, her eyes detected a very subtle movement.

"_That thing is... crying..._" She found herself thinking, and a pang of guilt made her chest feel suddenly too tight. Her grip tightened on the red stones. With firm pace, she walked towards the creature that was the result of the transmutation. She noticed with mild interest, even if remorse was gnawing at the back of her neck, that that thing was afraid of her. Could it really display emotions? Or was it only copying what he'd seen previously? The scientist in her was eager to grab her syringes and test tubes and start eliminating invalid hypothesis...

But she decided against it, the moment it started speaking. A wave of disgust, displeasure, and perhaps, some resentment, made her eyes narrow.

"M... mo...ther...?"

Dante's features hardened. She had been mother to her son. That... _thing_ wasn't her son.

She was not that homunculus' mother.

"Master." She corrected calmly, if stoically. Even if she had seen the plague, she'd witnessed deaths, she'd _caused_ deaths during those Red Stones' she was clutching research and creation, she'd never been shocked that much.

No. Shocked wasn't the word. She wasn't shocked, because she was subconsciously expecting Hohenheim to try something as foolish, and desperate, as human transmutation.

No, Dante was not shocked. She was sickened. Sickened by that creature that was only a living mess of organs and flesh put together and pulsating. A creature which had once been meant to be a _human_.

"M...mo...mas-ter...?"

She swallowed hard. Icily, she took the incomplete stones from her dress' pocket, and handed them to the homunculus. "Eat." She commanded.

Distrustfully, a languid hand, that looked like it was about to break, took a handful of those stones. The same hand that, uncoordinatedly, stuffed them into a twisted, deformed hole that was the creature's mouth.

Dante's eyes widened as strangled noises came from his throat. Sudden convulsions shook his body until it became totally rigid.

"_Did I... kill it?_"

The extra material that formed his body started to rearrange after a while that seemed eternal, and all the while Dante watched, without giving credit to her eyes. What on earth was happening...?

A choked sound of breathing surfaced gradually... a naked body was laying, limp, on the stone floor. She held her heart in her throat for a while that to her seemed eternal until, with feline movements, he sat up and flexed his fingers, looking at them with mild curiosity.

"_My body... how can it be? It's... back..._"

When he noticed he wasn't alone in that place, his immediate reaction was to crawl backwards, until his back made contact with the wall. He flinched.

It was a lapsus. Seeing her son's face in the creature that pressed itself against the humid stone corner made her react. Her arms circled the blood-dripping frame of the newly born homunculus.

She hugged it tightly to her, burying her face in his now perfectly crafted, if pale, shoulder.

"_What are you doing_?" She heard him say without any speech difficulty. She let go of him as if he were burning.

Even if it had his face... his _voice_... it wasn't... _him_.

She released him, as if he were burning.

Dipping the tip of her finger in a drying puddle of blood, her hand mechanically traced the lines of a transmutation circle. Placing her palm on it when she was done, the blood on the floor started rising in midair and circling the homunculus' body. His eyes followed hers, with a soft touch of indolence in them. When the blue light faded away into the room's dimness, the blood had recomposed into some sort of cloth, that covered his body up to his mid thighs.

At that point, Dante noted, the homunculus finally stood up. "He_ wasn't so wrong. This creature is... perfect._" Even if she tried to smile, her lips didn't obey her. His body was finely toned, and golden hair fell over his strong-looking shoulders.

After that she noticed, a faintly glowing symbol, apparently _tattooed_, against his leg. Her fingers reached out and touched it... could it be... "The _ouroboros_..." She whispered.

His lips parted into a strange smile, and Dante felt how his arms circled her and pulled her towards him. The mother in her closed her eyes, and was left content with thinking that perhaps, and just _perhaps_, things were back to normal, and the one holding her was her dear, _dearest_ son.

Until he spoke.

"I'm not research material..._mother_..."

She was let go, to see defiant copper eyes staring back into her own.

Eyes that flickered and became, gradually, artificially violet. She blinked.

And they were back to normal.

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**Hmm.. I didn't steal any quotes in this chapter, I think. Oh, and gomen ne for the excessive ammount of hugs... but hey, all for the plot's sake! XD Long live Envy and Dante!**

**Note: Dante draws a transmutation circle because she hasn't seen the Gate yet. I believe she sees it for the fist time when she creates Greed, and he's posterior to Envy. So yeah... :P**


	4. IV

_Thanks so much for the cute reviews!_

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Dante's thoughts as she left the basement revolted around the need of getting more red stones. What would happen to that homunculus if he didn't get enough? "_Probably nothing..._" She reasoned, as her hands roamed through drawers and small, crafted wooden boxes to find the rest of the precious substance. She knew that she hadn't given that creature all the alchemic supply he needed to function properly, and she didn't want such a potential to go waste.

Her fingertips finally felt the unearthly coldness of the incomplete philosopher's stones. Shortly after, though, she heard a voice:

"What are you doing?"

From that moment onwards, if she wanted to deal with _him_, the homunculus, she decided any compassion had to be wiped out. "I was looking for this..." She said, handing the rest of the stones to him, "Eat them."

Narrowing his eyes, the homunculus took what he was been given. She couldn't help noticing, that even if homunculi were rumored to have black hair, her son's look-alike was a perfect replica, meaning that he still had that healthy shade of golden he'd had when alive.

Apparently, the homunculus was by far more _complete_ than any other she could have possibly read about, and she'd have the future pleasure to meet.

She finally realized so when he asked, "Where's _father_?"

She chuckled cruelly, as if laughing at his innocence. 'Father? Hohenheim of Light? He abandoned you, because the sole sight of you sickened him.'

The creature stood still, letting the meaning of those words down on him. Dante looked on with interest, as he seemed to be refusing to believe what he was being told.

'I... I hate him.' The homunculus finally said, clutching his hand so tightly a small stream of blood trickled down his fist. 'I hate that bastard! I HATE HIM! One day...one day, I swear I'll kill him!'

She smiled calmly. "_So much for innocent"_ she thought. Smoothly, her hands traced his face. "Don't worry about that. You have all the time in the world ahead... to thank that person who abandoned _us_."

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**Sorry this thing is so short!**

**Note: I didn't know whether I should call Envy 'it' or 'he', so if I used them both and mixed them, please excuse me :P**


	5. V

_Sugoii. Another chappy up! I think there will be around eight chapters... ten as a maximum... _

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He wearily staggered through the corridor, feeling ill and light-headed. It had crossed his mind that he should be ok if he managed to drink some water, and breath some fresh air after that. The homunculus' body tensed up with every single step he took, every new sensation stirred up a string of feelings that shook him thoroughly. He supported himself against the humidity-stricken walls, until he stumbled his way into the bathroom. Panting, and feeling how cold sweat streamed down his face, he took a candle from a drawer below the washbasin and lit it. He opened the tap, and for a while, stayed listening to the sound of the running water. Slowly, he took a small sip. And he took a step backwards, his eyes wide in horror. The water was dust in his mouth.

'_Why... why can't I taste it...?_'

Rising his head, he looked at himself in the mirror, and his look of shock gave way to a face that showed pure hatred and loathe. '_Why do I... look so much like... him?_' Out of his now narrowed eyes, rolled a small tear. 'Why do I...?' He whispered

Tediously, he made his way back to the room Dante had assigned him.

He ignored the bed.

Instead, he went for the windowsill, plopping down on it after snapping out of his silent contemplation of the sky. It had ended up unnerving him.

His eyes, in which the warm look they had previously had still remained, fixed in his hand. It finally looked normal, but why was it so pale? He chuckled sadly. He was the same and yet, _not the same_.

And it was funny, but he... he didn't remember... _anything_. Just two faces... one that brought back hate, and one that caused his stomach to turn.

He loathed those two faces he remembered. And yet, if he looked at himself, he saw them. Some minutes ago, when he'd seen that reflection...

He clutched his head in despair. What could he do? "_If I could be someone else... if I just could quit looking the way I do... that way... I wouldn't have to see him each time I..._". The soft, silvery moonlight, was painting every tree outside the window with a very pale, ethereal color. The wind carried away the sound of his weeping. And, even if his soulless self knew that there was no good in crying... what else was there to do? His mind revolted around the thought, "_I wish I was someone else... Someone whose appearance didn't relate to anyone else's..._"

Just as he had finished thinking that, his lips moved mechanically to repeat it. "Someone whose appearance didn't relate to anyone else's.."

A bright light, almost like the one that reflected on the trees outside, traveled through his body, surging from the tips of his toes, until it reached the top of his head. Scared, he covered himself until the light was gone. "_What was that...?_"

The first thing he saw were his hands... _he_ didn't have those hands. He frantically searched for a mirror. Surprisingly enough, there was one inside a closet. He pulled it up, and placed it against the wall. He was so agitated he didn't notice that the heavily framed object had weighed practically _nothing _to him.

Shocked enough to be speechless, the homunculus stared at the reflection the mirror gave back. Where had his golden hair gone? _It had been replaced by a spiky, forest green tangle_. His eyes? _They looked violet now_. His body? _It was unusually pale, skinny_.

Himself? _That image showed another person._

He touched his cheek. Besides from the cold touch, the reflection had reached out and had done the same. No doubt, that man was _himself_.

Did that mean he could...

He focused on changing back to his now old self. The eerie light glowed again, and he was back to looking like _that person_. With a sour smirk, he focused on the green-haired cover from before. He easily shifted.

He decided he liked that form better... His lips parted, to show off a perfect row of pearly, pointy shark teeth.

After seeing that, nothing surprised him any longer.

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**Thanks so much for the reviews...! Although this has A LOT of hits, and only some few people actually message... Come on, just a short "I liked it" or "I didn't". It's not hard to press a small button and write three words, and you know how happy that makes me...!**


	6. VI

_Thanks so much for the reviews!_

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The next morning, Dante looked everything but surprised when she saw him. "Why _are_ you wearing that?" She inquired, scanning him effectively with her cold eyes.

He only smirked. "Don't I look cute, Mother?"

She sighed, and picked up her hat from the table. Her rich, dark brown hair undulated a little past her shoulders, accentuating her delicate bossom."All but that," she whispered. The homunculus tugged at the end of his skirt, looking slightly offended. He crossed his arms over his chest as the woman grabbed her purse and headed for the door. "I'm going to the market" Dante said.

"Do I care, Mother?...Oh, sorry. You wanted me to call you _master, _right" he mumbled with a snarl. He flexed his fingers, putting his tendons and muscles to work, and feeling content with the contemplation, at least for a while. Until he decided that he'd put on some gloves, because they'd look cool. He grinned impishly to himself.

"H_e doesn't speak like he did. No, this creature never would... but now... now that, somehow, it has managed to shift its appearance... then there is nothing in him that can relate to my son._" With a last glance of resentment towards the homunculus, Dante closed the doorsill.

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**Kinda short... Kinda TOO short... :P... I promise longer ones...!**


	7. VII

_Dedicated to Lone.L_

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It had been too sudden a change for her to fully acknowledge it.

She had believed... that after _he_ had left her, her only consolation would be, at least, seeing a slight resemblace of him in her _reborn_ son. Whom, by now, she had learnt to accept wasn't her son... let alone "_reborn_".

Her bony fingers curled around the comb, and lifted it from the old comode slowly. She took her time to put her wavy hair in order. It probably was already in order, but Dante's meticulous ways inclined her to always make things look, if anything, _perfect_. Scrutinizing her grey-eyed reflection, her thin lips pressed tighter, and her brow pursed into a frown.

Her finger traced the outline of a, still faint enough, wrinkle, and she finally emitted a small sigh. "It's sad... that I'm not young any more."

A gust of northern wind blew past the curtains and made her heavily decorated dress ooze.

Side-glancing at the open window, she traced a transmutation circle on the wooden comode with maroon lipstick. Pressing her palm on it, gently, delicately, a faint glow of blue lingered for a while after the window had slammed shut.

She couldn't hold back a sad smile, which probably came from the remaining bits of a mother in her. "_He, our... no, my son... used to do that, always._ "

She stood up, her eyes regaining their severity and coldness all of a sudden, just as, from her lips, a badly kept whisper escaped, sounding angered, frustrated,

"_But homunculi can't use alchemy. _"

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**I know that 'grey' is really spelt 'gray'... but... I don't know, I've spelt it 'grey' all my life, I got kinda attached to the word :P..**

**Oh, and again, sorry for the shortness...!**


	8. VIII

_This one does fit in the 'horror' genre..._

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He frowned. He wasn't content with knowing that the only denomination he deserved at the moment could be that of -monster-. With anger, he knew he could tell himself countless times that he'd have to get used to it, and still, in the deepest part of his artificial-self, he knew he'd never get really used to it. Because, it was like that.

It was of no good to him that he was given the chance to leave behind any trace of whom he _should have been_, and start all over again. It didn't have any point if he didn't even _know_ who he was.

"Homunculus" or the occasional "Hey you", would never be enough to give him an identity, they'd never fill in the void that lacking a name left.

Homunculus. Not quite human. Almost there, but in the end, not _there_. Incomplete. Failure. Living failure.

_Sin_.

His morale was a tiny ship that had collided against a huge iceberg. Yes, it was broken.

Yes, it was sinking.

As he'd had the _pleasure_ to prove for himself, death wasn't an option either. In the highest peaks of despair and fear, those times when the feeling of being lost made him want to vomit his guts out, not even making himself bleed as a self-punishment was comforting enough, not even _death_ was an option. He'd had the pleasure to prove that 'suicide' is, as well as 'feeling satisfied' and 'being thoroughly normal', in the homunculi's_ not-able-to-do _list. And even so, the homunculus wasn't a masochist, oh, no, he didn't enjoy pain. And, even so, he had to admit with bitter sadness, that he sometimes found himself wishing for it.

And he hated himself for that. Himself, and the rest of the world too.

He wasn't _bad_, he was just unhappy.

He clenched his hand. By that moment there was already a hole on the wall. He let out a frustrated sigh. He wasn't going to get anywhere if he just kept punching unanimated objects as a way to release his insatisfaction. No, there _had_ to be another way. He stuck his hands in his pockets (yes, apparently, his curious outfit _had_ pockets,) and made his way out of the room, the corridor, _the house_, in a grumpy mood.

He ambled aimlessly through a narrow dirt path that took him through the grassy fields that surrounded the house. It was settled in a small, countryside town after all. There wasn't much to see.

The green-haired homunculus came to a halt, when he realized he'd perhaps gone too far from the house. What should he do now? As much as he hated to admit it, he didn't really know what to do. He laid down on the fresh-looking grass, and his eyes got lost in the white clouds up in the blue sky. Should he really, _really_ return to that place?

There was no one that loved him there, after all. But on the other hand… he didn't have anywhere else to go. He sighed in defeat. Sitting up, his eyes traveled absently his surroundings. Finally, he gave up. "This is so boring…," he muttered.

By the time he'd gotten up, and dusted off the leaves of grass that remained on his clothes, he could see some orange starting to surface in the lowest part of the sky. Almost lethargically, he followed the little path that had gotten him there in the first place. Nothing had changed, in the landscape or in his mood, until he passed next to an abandoned ditch.

His eyes lit up to the sound of weeping.

Nosiness, and a new feeling that made his insides flip in glee getting the best of him, he peered over the edge to see what the fuss was about. His lips immediately fell downwards, in a rare display of empathy, but then, right after that, the ends pulled upwards and he found himself smirking.

A small kid lay curled around a ball, all ragged, all bloody. A small, still chubby and young arm rested to the kid's side, painfully ripped from its body. It seemed to him that the young boy had been there for a good while, given that the heart retching cries of pain he'd have expected seemed to have died out.

Just as the kid's popped-eyes spotted him, the homunculus' ears caught a faint, desperate, "Help me."

He sneered. "No," he answered calmly, starting to walk away, "Help yourself."

After a high-pitched screech, he snickered, glad to see that at least _someone_ was in a worse condition than he was.

Surprisingly enough...

_That_ felt satisfying.

He grinned nastily, without feeling the slightest bit of remorse in knowing that he was leaving a young soul, who'd probably had a whole life ahead, to rot in a ditch.

The air smelling heavily like dew and grass, the sun already set in the perfectly straight line the horizon was, he started going back home. If he could call _that place_ home.

When he strode into the house, looking triumphant, _pleased_, he didn't fail to catch a small, warm light coming from a slightly ajar door he'd never seen before.

His improved mood derived into a mild, almost innocent curiosity, and the tips of his fingers slid it open. His eyes had been used to the dimness of the dusk so the sudden surge of light left him blind for a short while.

When he blinked the blindness off, Dante was staring back at him, irritation tugging at her lips.

It was mostly inconvenient that he'd reached that place in the middle of her research. That, she was sure, was going to be a mostly _problematic_ setback.

She frowned.

She couldn't help thinking that _he _would have stared in awe at the huge amount of books and documents stored in that library.

Instead, perfect, dazzling, and almost provocative eyes locked with her own for a few seconds. A strange smile surfaced on his lips, when the look in those orbs that stared back at him, those almost metallic orbs, became hard, unforgiving.

Retracing his steps, he walked back towards her until a few meters separated them. "What's wrong?" He asked, reaching out to touch Dante's cheek. The only answer he got was a glare through narrowed eyes, and the silent, unspoken '_don't provoke me'_ he saw in them.

Her bony palm slapped the homunculus' hand off her cheek. The touch was unpleasant. Foreign. Remorsing. _Wrong_.

And he smiled, and after a faint, silvery glow, Dante's eyes, which had been locked with severity with the homunculus' very own violet ones, found the latter had become a healthy shade of copper; her blood froze for an instant.

She wanted to scream.

The homunculus, which had retuned to his original form, _her son's_ form, stroke her cheek gently for the second time. She didn't slap him off. His smile widened. "How longer will we be like this?" he asked, barely taking in that pretending to be _himself_ was harder than he'd thought. Dante before him looked disgustingly entranced with his way of talking, and inwards, he felt repulsed at how pathetic that woman's reaction was. After all... what had _that person_ (his previous self) had, that he didn't? Wasn't he, as a homunculus, biologically perfect? Wasn't he _better_, than that kind, warm, _gentle_ kid daddy had failed to bring back? The only thing he asked for was tolerance. Perhaps, with some time and hope, even love.

Wasn't he good enough to get them?

He had never done anything that deserved getting as a response cold glares whenever he strived for attention. He had never done anything that made him deserve having to bear the pain of feeling empty inside, and the harshness of a selfish person who blamed him for her own disgrace.

And even so, he did what he could, he did what he _knew_. He turned all that sadness, all that _angst_ into hate, and that was why he was smiling, because he was promising himself that those who'd made him suffer would suffer ten times as worse. He'd take care of it.

That was why he smiled, and his voice came out soft, sweet, charming. "How longer will we be talking trough glares and silences, mother?"

Dante reacted at the _mother_. "For as long as it remains the only language you understand."

He kept smiling. Perhaps, the more he smiled was the more he hated. "In the end, I know you aren't as heartless as you want to seem, _mother_. Or was that flicker of hope in your eyes a second ago just my imagination," he taunted, seeing her, or better, _feeling her_ grit her teeth and shiver, and for a dashing while Dante had become a helpless mother before the remains of her son.

Her features became rigid. "You don't even deserve my pity. After all, you're just a created human with the face of someone I once knew."

His smile dropped. "You and _him _weren't so unrelated," he said, narrowing his eyes, "You and that bastard husband of yours are exactly the same. It's just that he was braver than you, that's why he's even worth hating." He pulled back his hand, which had remained on her cheek, at the time the silvery light returned, and he was back to his green-haired form. He turned his back on her, and looked over his shoulder, adding, "It's Equivalent Trade." That said, he exited the room.

She let out a frosty chuckle. "The nerve of that creature. Comparing me to Hohenheim...! He and I will never be alike. Because that man's compassion will kill him some day... and I will live on... surely... forever..."

Her hand lingered for a while on the spot where his had touched her and then, with narrowed eyes, she lowered it to grab a book that had been left on one of the tables.

A handwritten, ancient volume about human transmutation.

She had checked it before, and it had proved to be very valuable. She was aware of the wisdom that manuscript contained. It had probably taken an alchemist's whole lifetime to write it. With a sour reminiscence of a smile, she thought she was giving it some good use.

It took some time to find what she'd been looking for in the first place. When she did...

Dante slammed shut the book. Now she knew... she _knew_... She knew why the alchemist who'd carried out that research had been so careful when encrypting the results. She knew how homunculi were named, _what_ they were named _after_. She knew why human transmutation was a taboo.

Taboo: something which is illicit to commit. Taboo: the antithesis of the commandments. Sin: breaking a commandment.

Sin: Taboo.

And vice-versa.

The name _should _have bled through a long time ago. But she had been reluctant to accept it.

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**See? I put some effort and made this chapter longer! It did turn out kinda poetic, huh? (is proud) And also, I tucked in some Johann! W00t! (Johann is my name for Envy's past-self. Heck, I HAD to give him a name, right? XD Even so, I'm not using it in this story because I didn't want to make him seem an OC- you understand me, ne?)**

**And oh... _I_ think the Dante-Envy relationship is getting sorta... explosive :S... what do _you _think?**

**Oh, and I have some A/Ns for this part:**

**- "_Comparing me to Hohenheim_...! " Sounded better than going, "_Comparing me to Hohenheim of Light_...! "  
- "...surely... forever..."- Dante in the anime once says that, _"kitto, zutto."_**


	9. IX

_Thanks for the cute reviews! Almost 50! (I can't believe it n.n!)_

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It was fun.

He changed into a bird.

A dog.

A cat.

An old lady he'd seen once, and one of the kids that played in the distance, in the neighbor's backyard.

It was _fun_.

Unsitisfying, but, still fun. He shapeshifted back to his green haired form, which had become his favored. Why? Simple... because each time his mother, that had by now become his _master_, (with all the irony it implied) saw him in that form, she seemed to feel repulse towards him. He actually thought it was because, out of seeing _that bastard_ and that manly, handsome pre-him, she'd gotten used to men being that way.

Oh, and because in that form, him and her and _that bastard_ seemed totally _unrelated_.

He laid down on the grass, and closed his eyes to the sound of the late september wind. It was soothing, in a cold, gloomy way.

The pain was starting to leave... but that pain had left a blazing void in his chest that no distraction could make him forget. It was a pain that contorted his lips making them pull downwards, a pain that blazed inwards, as if it were deeply rooted in his heart, and those roots clenched it each time he reminded himself he _wasn't_ happy.

And he wished to see blood, or any other proof of the existance of that wound he couldn't see. He wished for an ache he could identify, he wished for an ache he could name.

That would mean he could fight it back, and perhaps, with some luck, even make it go away.

He gritted his teeth.

How was he feeling?

'_Unbalanced. And it's all... all that bastard's fault... if he were still here... if he hadn't just left..._'

'Hey you.' Dante's frosty voice called, 'Dinner is served.'

He sat up, and stretched. And, as he was at that, he placed a hand over his heart. It was beating. He frowned, but that didn't make him feel any better.

Ignoring a penetrating, inquiring glance delivered to him by icelike grey eyes; once, twice, thrice, his fists collided against the ground, turning all of his hopelessness into anger and trying to get rid of it. Without him noticing, he'd left a large crater.

He stood up fully, and screamed until he felt his lungs were about to burst.

'What are you doing?' A very impatient Dante asked, standing steely by the doorsill, unaffected by the piercing glare the homunculus was giving her.

'Oh, nothing, _master_...' He said, spitting each word like a drop of venom, and turning his violet glare to the exagerately oversized dent his fists had carved out on the ground. 'I just thought you could use a pool.'

She coldly bore her metallic eyes into his own, as if to say, '_Don't play smart with me._' The homunculus understood the glimpse of severity in the woman's eyes. He didn't go any further.

She commanded, laconically, 'Go in.'

'What's my name?' He asked, out of the blue. A gust of wind howled behind his back.

Dante's eyes narrowed. 'The food is getting cold.'

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**'_Unbalanced. And it's all... all that bastard's fault... if he were still here... if he hadn't just left..._' Ohh, kawaii! Learning how to get emo with Envy! And gomen ne for the shortness :P...**

**R&R!**


	10. X

_Wee XD I'd like to thank Lone.L and LeandroGarel for their constant support :D (hands cookie)_

_Some parts done while listening to 'Boku wa koko ni iru'. Go figure XD_

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The homunculus _he_ had created was superior to any other ever created, ever _to be _created.

But now, _he _was gone.

And Dante's heart ached because of that. It had only been a stupid quarrel, over an issue of secondary importance...! He didn't need to leave to prove that perhaps, and just perhaps, he'd been right, and the creature should have been left to die. Because she still loved him.

As if to express her hate and repulsion towards the _issue_ that had provoked her love to abandon her, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed at the sight of the sleeping homunculus. Why should she care about him..._it_? _It_ didn't care about her, after all.

_It_ was the cause of all her disgrace.

Her nose wrinkled.

She stood up from her armchair, and paced towards the large library.

The previous day, _it_ had had a point.

She couldn't call the homunculus -_it_- for the rest of her life. It nagged that she didn't even have a _name_ to hate.

"_How should a homunculus be referred to?_" The answer she'd thought she'd gotten hadn't left her satisfied.

Flipping through pages of different books, the most of them about forbidden alchemies and taboos, Dante remained inexpresive. She finally grabbed hold of the old manuscript she'd been reading some days ago. The name, as she'd found out before, only depended on the answer to one question... one single question... It was so, so simple. So cruelly simple.

Simple enough to be easy to loathe.

Complex enough to be a punishment on its own.

Her steely grey eyes narrowed, and re-read the page a number of times before giving up, and admitting she hadn't been mistaken the first time she'd read it.

And that simple name...

Humans were miserable creatures, after all. She frowned slowly, her eyes trailing off and roaming through his relaxed body. It didn't matter how much she hated him, it, it didn't matter. The homunculus itself had said it, '_You aren't as heartless as you want to seem, mother_'. How many times she'd narrowed her cold eyes, didn't matter, remembering those cruel, cynism-dripping words of his hurt all the same. Because, he'd been right. She _had_ wanted to get rid of him in a first moment, and she hadn't found her courage to do so.

She found herself gazing, eyes slightly saddened, at the thing that was supposed to be her son.

She shrugged, and asked herself how long it'd be until she got over it. With her lips pursing, she shook the homunculus awake, and as soon as his violet eyes were open and fixed in her own, she asked:

'What do you desire the most right now?' Sweetness leaked from her voice as poison from a snake's fangs and poured over her words, making them edgy, cruel. He sat up, she closed the thick book. Even if he'd caught the disgust in his _master's_ question, the homunculus didn't even stop to think, and even so, his voice sounded calm, and words flowed out of his mouth as if he'd sorted out that answer a long time ago.

'I don't desire anything. I _hate_... I hate anyone who has what I don't... I hate anyone who is happy! I want to see _humans _suffer, feel the same pain _I_ feel!'

_That _had been sincere. A strange smile surfaced in her lips.

'We'll be working on that... _Envy_'

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**Ta-da! The end! (DON'T KILL ME! I ran out of ideas... and it was also kind of cute to stop here. But I'm open to suggestions!.. and that means...)**

**R&R! Please! The usual three words... k? Pweeease?**


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